There's for thee
by Polly Little
Summary: "We could all like, actually see the tension when you guys were rehearsing the sword fight." Backstage drama as Feliks encourages Tolys to ask Ivan out.


_T_ _here's for thee_

Tolys stepped into the wings, his face flushed and his ears still ringing adrenalin. When he closed his eyes, the applause still echoed, and there was an admittedly large part of him that wanted to walk back out and declare the play would begin again, but he restrained himself. For one thing, the rest of the cast would probably murder him. For another, he was completely and utterly exhausted.

Feliks came running up to him, eyes shining and his blond hair stark against the black of his crew member uniform. "That was great! All your years of practice paid off, you really had the essence of "confused bisexual wanderer".

Tolys was a little slower on the uptake than usual. "But we only started rehearsing three months ago."

Yeah, but you started hiking, like-" Feliks paused to count on his fingers "-eleven years ago. So you've been a confused bisexual wanderer for over a decade."

Huffing a laugh, Tolys followed Feliks into the bathroom that had been designated a spare changing room. It was mostly empty except for Antonio, a cheerful, friendly man who ironically enough was playing the character of the same name. Tolys waved a greeting and went straight to washing off his slowly melting stage makeup, but Antonio chose to be more dramatic.

"How couldst thou abandon me so cruelly, love?" Antonio asked, draped over a cistern and fully in character. "Many a time I swore to love no other/ Many a time I swore I would be true./ Yet thou wouldst betray me for one such as her?"

Tolys threw a makeup brush at him.

"Very nice," Feliks said, one thin blonde eyebrow raised. "And in like, iambic and verse as well, though that ending needed work. How long did that take you?"

"About an hour and a half," Antonio said sheepishly. "Ezrebet told me to make it gayer, so Francis suggested Antonio write Sebastian dramatic poetry."

"And of course you followed their advice," Tolys muttered, then, significantly louder, declaimed a response.. "Why do you judge me so harshly, my friend?/ I have committed you no grievous harm./ Why, had I acted as you suggested/Then, shunned as lepers, would we have to flee."

Antonio recoiled dramatically, green eyes closed in mock anguish. "Formal you? No need to rub the decision in," he teased.

Tolys groaned, and scrubbed harder at a spot where the greasepaint refused to budge. "I knew I missed something."

"But still pretty awesome for on the spot," Feliks pointed out, then wolf whistled, partly to make Tolys cringe in embarrassment so he could tease him later, but also because he was genuinely impressed.

As predicted, Tolys cringed, but he held his ground much better than he would have before he started acting. "What can I say? I'm a master of making things gayer without any prior warning."

Antonio high-fived him. "It's a pleasure to help you with that noble goal!"

With that, Antonio grabbed his makeup bag and left, and Feliks decided to take the opportunity to segue into a closely related topic – ie, Tolys accidentally making Shakespeare unexpectedly gay. "Speaking of which, how are things going with _Ivan?"_

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean," Tolys deadpanned.

"Come on," Feliks pressed. "We could all like, actually see the tension while you guys were rehearsing the sword fight."

He placed sword fight in air quotes, and Tolys went bright red.

"Okay, fine!" He caved. "He kept laughing at me when I focused on the footwork, but when I tripped he helped me up, so he probably doesn't hate me."

"Is that "okay, fine, I'll tell you", or "fine, I guess"?" Feliks asked. "I can't, like, read minds, babes."

"The first."

Feliks nodded, then caught Tolys makeup rimmed eye in the mirror and couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Come here, you're awful at this."

He pulled both Tolys face and the makeup wipes towards him, and began dabbing at what had turned into thick black panda marks. "The secret is to be gentle, so you don't make yourself go blind, but persistent, or it'll never come off."

"This is why I don't wear makeup," Tolys said, though it took him some effort due to the way Feliks was tugging at his face.

"What, because despite what everyone thinks, you lack patience and would rather sandpaper your face off than do this every evening?"

"I can be patient!" He complained.

"Only when you can like, see a reason," Feliks pointed out. "Which is why you have so much difficulty flirting. You're worried you're going to ruin something, even though he's so clearly interested in you."

"And how would you know?" Tolys pulled away from Feliks and began to dry his face, giving him the perfect opportunity to produce a small green book with a flourish.

Tolys was an uncomfortable mixture of intrigued, ashamed, and horrified. "You _stole_ his diary? Feliks, how could you?"

"Correction!" Feliks announced, clearly as shameless as ever. "His _sister_ stole his diary. I'm merely threatening to read it until like, your sense of honour and duty kicks in and you agree to ask him out."

Tolys was aghast. "But I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because… because!"

Feliks folded his arms. "That is the least convincing argument I've ever heard, and I majored in English Lit.. So ask him out, or I start reading."

"But I'm still covered in makeup!" Tolys protested. "And I have no idea where he is, or if he's even gay!"

Feliks felt like talking to the hand dryer would be more productive. "When I read this, like the first thing I found was an awful poem about your eyes."

Tolys still wasn't ready to give up. "It might not be my eyes."

"It says "Mr Laurinaitis-Braginskiy in the margins, but yeah, it's like totally about Gilbert Beilschmidt."

He had to admit that that was unlikely. "But what do I do?"

"Just be your usual loveable self," Feliks said, gesturing exasperatedly. "Don't insult him. You'll be fine."

Tolys nodded, nervously biting his lip. "Right. Right, I can do this."

"Yep!" Feliks said, pushing him out the bathroom. "He's backstage, helping Nataliya with her lines. Go! Quick!"

Tolys nodded, then set off down the hallway on his harrowing journey to finally ask the other man out. Feliks rolled his eyes at his retreating back. "They're probably going to be one of those disgustingly mushy couples, and I'll regret pushing him."

And exactly as Feliks predicted, when rehearsal began the next day the pair couldn't keep their hand off of each other. It was cheesy and awful, with suddenly recited poetry and unnecessary cannoodling, but Tolys was happy, and that was the main thing.

 **A/n: Written for Caesar's Palace shipping week. The play is Twelfth Night, and Ivan is playing Sir Andrew.**


End file.
